Navajo Long Walk (9 page)

Sometimes Kee was given a small bucket of milk to take to the dugout. His family would rather have been drinking goat milk from their own herd in Navajoland, but the cow's milk helped to stretch their scanty rations and they were grateful for it.

When Kee was not busy with the horse, he went to the fields to try to help the men plant the crops. Since he had no father he felt that it was his duty to try to do the job of a man as well as he could.

It was not many days before he came back to the dugout and reported that the corn was up and growing. By the middle of summer it had tasseled and the family's mouths watered as they talked of the fresh roasted corn they would soon enjoy. But before the ears were half mature, corn worms destroyed most of the crop. Then hail storms ruined most of the wheat. The Navajos shared what crops there were, but there was little to store away for winter use.

Gentle Woman paced back and forth, shaking her head, saying, “What will we do? We will all starve before spring.”

“We will live somehow,” Wise One assured her. “The Diné always have. Perhaps Captain Harris can give Kee some extra rations.”

But Kee told them, “Even the soldiers are getting short on food. They say they have sent word to a far-away place called St. Louis for more supplies, but it is a long, long, hard journey for the wagons. It may be the middle of the winter before they arrive, even if the snows are not deep this year.”

Officers at the fort divided the tribe into twelve groups. They chose twelve Navajo headmen as leaders of the groups. Each headman was asked to encourage his band to build an adobe village. But adobe houses were the way of the Pueblo Indians, not the Navajo. Besides, this land was not good for them. They could not feed themselves from it. Why should they build a village that would never become home? The villages were never started.

Indian men had been set to work finishing an adobe building at the fort. Now that it was completed, they were told it would be used for a school for Navajo children. Young priests were coming from Santa Fe to teach them to speak the white man's language. The headmen were asked to encourage Navajo parents to allow their children to get an education.

Strong Man's family was under the leadership of Ganado Mucho, “many cattle.” He was one of the few Navajos who had a big herd and was able to bring most of it with him to Fort Sumner. At times he even sold animals to the soldiers for food. Gentle Woman shook her head when Kee told her this. “That is not the way of the Diné. He should share with his own people, not deal with the enemy.”

“People do what they have to do to survive,” Wise One said. “Some of them no longer keep the Indian ways.”

Ganado Mucho went from one miserable shelter to another, talking about the school. When he reached Strong Man's family, they were sitting on the ground near their supper fire, dipping into a pot of mutton stew. Wise One invited him to join them.

Kee listened carefully as the headman talked about the school to Gentle Woman. “It will be a great help to the tribe if some of our boys will learn the white man's language. Life is so much easier if you understand what people are saying.”

A worried expression crossed Gentle Woman's face. “But is it safe for our children to be shut up with strange, white men all day? What do you think, Kee?”

Kee swelled with pride. His mother had asked his opinion as she would have asked his father had he been there. Although he felt a little afraid about the school, he said, “My mother, we will be as safe there as anywhere else at this fort. I would like to learn the white man's words so I can know what soldiers say when I am working at the stables.”

Hasba ran to her grandmother, “I do not want to go to school,” she said.

Wise One drew the little girl down to her lap. “You don't have to go to school, I think. You can instead learn to cook at the hogan fire and herd sheep. And learn to card wool and weave it, if ever we can have sheep again and poles to make a loom. Kee can teach you the white man's language.”

Ganado Mucho smiled. “That reminds me. At a meeting of the head men and the fort officers, we spoke about getting poles for looms so warm clothing and blankets can be woven before the worst part of winter arrives. The army will send wagons to the mountains for poles and needed firewood.”

Gentle Woman turned to Ganado Mucho. “Kee will go to the school. I will go with him until I see that it is safe.”

Ganado Mucho nodded. “As many mothers as children will be there the first day, I think.”

Picking up a tin plate of discarded mutton bones, Kee carried it to the back of the dugout where Gray Dog waited patiently for his supper. A shadow fell across the ground as Kee gave the bones to Gray Dog. He looked up to see Ganado Mucho smiling down at him. “Kee, I am happy you want to learn the white man's language. Many of our boys will not try because of their hatred for the white man. It is true I acquired my big herd of cattle by raiding, but those days are over. We will never survive as a tribe unless we learn to live in peace with the white man, for he is here to stay.”

On the morning school began, Gentle Woman and Kee joined the large group of boys and mothers sitting on the ground in front of the adobe school building. A tall priest in a long black gown came out with the interpreter to tell the children to come into the classroom. Mothers crowded forward with the children, but were told to wait outside.

Kee felt a small sickness in his stomach as he walked into the classroom, but he was glad he did not give way to tears, as some of the younger boys did.

The children sat close together on long benches. The teacher held up white cards with black marks on them. He told them the white man's words for the marks. Then the interpreter told them Navajo words for the marks. The priest had the interpreter tell them, “I will teach you
the white man's language. You will teach me the Navajo language. We will both learn.”

School lasted only a short time that first day. The children, not used to being confined, laughed and shouted as they tumbled out into fresh air and sunshine, joining mothers who were now able to smile again.

Hasba ran to meet Kee and Gentle Woman when she saw them approaching the dugout. “Say a little of the white man's language for me,” she shouted to her brother.

Kee laughed. “It is not that easy. Tomorrow I will bring you a white man's word.”

The promised poles arrived at the fort. Ganado Mucho sent Navajo men to help Strong Man's family build a loom. They put poles in the ground to make a shelter where the women could weave. Kee and Hasba gathered weeds, brush, and tree branches to cover the shelter.

Gentle Woman and Wise One were given a small amount of wool at the supply warehouse. The towcards and slender stick spindle Wise One carried on the long walk were once again put to use. Hasba was delighted to hold towcards again. She had begun to learn carding before leaving the hogan on the mesa.

The spindle danced under Wise One's small, strong hands. Kee marveled at the swiftness of her fingers as she rapidly spun the wool into twisted yarn. He waited anxiously for her to burst into song as she always had when spinning at the hogan on the mesa. She remained silent. The dancing spindle caused him to recall the sings in Navajoland. He wondered if the Diné would ever again know such happiness.

Here in this alien land beyond the sacred mountains, the spirits had deserted them. There was no use in holding ceremonies for the sick. Besides, who could provide food for the great feasts to follow each day's ceremony? Here no one had enough to eat, so how could anyone
invite friends or relatives to share with them? He could almost hear the voices of the singers chanting, chanting, chanting. He could hear drums. He could see dancers and smell good food cooking on campfires.

His mother's voice brought Kee back to the present. “You and Hasba go to the river and hunt some tree bark and roots that might darken the wool. I also need a bucket of water to heat the dye.”

The family worked together until warm blanket dresses had been made for the women and Hasba. A blanket was made for Kee to wear around his shoulders.

Strong Man's family was lucky to have the warm clothing. Snow and sleet blew early across the open plains that first winter at the fort. Because of the crop failure, rations had to be cut. Sickness spread among the Navajos. Unhappiness at being so far from their beloved homeland caused old ones to give up in despair. Many died.

Early each morning, Kee lifted the corner of the canvas over the dugout and climbed out. Whether snow, rain, sleet, wind, or sunshine met him, he trudged to the fort. His one happiness was taking care of Smoke. His fondness for the horse grew each day.

Only a small number of boys faithfully attended school now that winter had come. For Kee, the hours passed quickly. After school, he ran errands for Captain Harris. With great patience, the captain explained what he wanted done. This extra contact with white people improved Kee's English. Captain Harris talked to Kee about his own son, Jeff. Kee soon understood that the boy lived with his mother in the place where the wagons came from with the supplies. It was many days' journey by ox team from the fort. Kee understood it had been many moons since the captain had seen Jeff. “He will be about the same age and size as you are, Kee,” Captain
Harris said. “He writes me letters and tells me about his school and his friends. I miss him very much.”

Kee could not understand all the words, but he understood the captain loved and missed his son. He loved and missed his father with an ache that grew stronger all the time. He would never tell any white man about his father. He still had hopes that Strong Man had escaped capture and was hiding somewhere in one of the many canyons in Navajoland, although Gentle Woman said it was more likely that he had been killed.

One morning at the stables, Kee's soldier friend who had saved Wise One and given him the canvas, pointed to Kee's shoulder blanket. “Would your mother weave me a blanket like that?”

Kee shook his head. “No wool.”

The soldier took Kee to his quarters and showed him skeins of red and blue yarn he had ordered from St. Louis. “Can your mother weave this into a blanket?”

Kee nodded. He knew Gentle Woman would love the bright colors and be happy to do something for the soldier who had befriended them.

“Good,” said the soldier. “When it is done, I'll send the blanket to my mother.”

Gentle Woman's loom was seldom idle after that. Several soldiers sent for yarn. She wove blankets to send to their wives and mothers. Building a small fire in the pole shelter she wove even on the coldest days. A little meat or bread from the soldier's rations often found it's way to Gentle Woman's dugout. When bits of yarn were left over she was allowed to keep them. She hoarded them carefully, hoping some day to have enough to make a bright blanket for their own use.

When at last spring arrived, the leaves began to bud, and once again birds sang in the cotton-wood trees. A new feeling of hope spread among the Navajos. Hoping to grow more food this year, they worked hard at cleaning the irrigation ditches and planting crops.